


If What We Had Was Real (Please Just Tell Me)

by miraculouskatsukii



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Temporary Amnesia, Viktuuri Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraculouskatsukii/pseuds/miraculouskatsukii
Summary: I'll be home soon, Yuuri~I love you.Those were the last words Katsuki had heard from Nikiforov.  An hour hasn't even passed yet and now, he was rushing over to the Mariinsky Hospital.  He can't let their happiness end here.  'Victor, please be alright.'orThree times Victor falls in love with Yuuri and one time he does it all over again.





	If What We Had Was Real (Please Just Tell Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I want to send all the love to my artists @kanakotakaya-theshipper and @clearlypissed on tumblr for their wonderful art work! They were absolutely wonderful, and I was so glad to work together on this project. check out their artwork here:  
> https://kanakotakaya-theshipper.tumblr.com/post/162087297165/thank-you-so-much-for-all-the-help-in-making-all  
> I also want to thank meg aka phoenixrei for looking over this fic and figuring out some plot holes and such, thank you!!

Yuuri Katsuki stared with a loving smile at the last message Victor had sent him. He was out walking Makkachin, while his husband was buying groceries and all Yuuri wanted right now was to be curled up on their sofa watching a Russian movie he couldn’t half understand so that Victor could whisper in his ear… 

 

What had he been thinking about again? 

 

Ah, yes, Victor’s message. He sighed, clicking out of the app, and was about to close his phone when an unknown number popped on his screen, calling him. Yuuri furrowed his brow, before sliding his thumb across the phone screen to answer the call. 

 

“Yuuri Katsuki? This is about your husband, Victor Nikiforov.”

 

People who passed by him stopped and stared, bewildered at the pale, unmoving man standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a panting poodle beside him. 

 

_ This isn’t real. Don’t let it end. I don’t want it to end, please. Please let everything be the way it was before. _

 

A couple blocks away, an unconscious and bleeding Victor Nikiforov was being loaded onto an ambulance. 

 

**_i._ **

 

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. _

 

The pulsing sound was the only constant in his unpredictable, dreamlike state. Victor was pretty sure that he was in a hospital of some sort, and that he was being looked after, so waking up wasn’t really on the forefront of his mind. Even if it had been, he felt that he wouldn’t have been able to do so, as he was still struggling in between being asleep and awake. 

 

What had happened? 

 

His dreams plagued him like never before. It seemed to be a repeating sequence, the same colours and shapes coming up in an orderly fashion. 

 

_ Firstly, he would see warm, golden hues, full of life and love. _ Looking around made him think he was drunk, geometric forms blurring together, but he knew he was clear-headed enough. 

 

_ It’s almost like lag in a video game, _ he thought fondly, remembering nights spent playing Halo alongside… alongside who? He couldn’t remember. 

 

It didn’t matter either way - what really mattered was the way his heart would fill up with love at the memory his drug-infused brain came up with. As he made his way in between rafts of his dream-grocery store, Victor glanced down to see a text conversation opened up on his phone:

 

_ \--I love you. _

 

_ <3 <3-- _

 

For whatever reason, those two tiny hearts made his mind sing and jump around excitedly. Yet again, he felt his heart grow till it neared bursting in his chest with joy. Next to his phone, on his hand, glinted a golden wedding ring, engraved with indecipherable words. 

 

He felt himself float around the weird store in a daze, and oh, yes. This was where the worst part of the dream would always come. Victor mentally braced himself for the events that would take place. Walking out of the store, he hailed down a taxi cab, glad to get out of the current snowstorm - at least, that’s what he thought it was. In his dream, grey and white shapes simply popped up everywhere and lightly burned the skin on his face with their cold. 

 

As the taxi sped down the streets, Victor heard a faint muttering, and guessed it was him making idle conversation with the taxi driver. It was weird, hearing himself speak, but even weirder was hearing and experiencing everything around him as if underwater, detached from the rest of the world. 

 

Victor clenched his teeth, fully aware of what was coming, as he had already lived this dream more than enough times. Time seemed to slow down around him, allowing him to fully appreciate the blurry greys, browns and greens of the city around him. Even their voices began to grow more distorted, stretching out the moment as if to maximise Victor’s pain. This single moment, the wait before the storm hit, was even worse than the excruciating pain he knew would follow. 

 

It started out small, a single dark red dot appearing on the taxi’s dashboard, but it grew larger and larger, and with it, time seemed to speed up as well, until everything seemed to unfold in fast motion. The taxi flipped over as the large smattering of ruby splashes filled his vision and he heard the cries of pain - not only his and the taxi driver’s but people outside crying in fear as a wave of white noise built up around him. It was too much, too much,  _ too much-  _

 

Then, suddenly, the darkness materialised around him, filled with a silence so deep it nearly drove him insane. 

 

_ Firstly, he would see warm, golden hues, full of life and love… _

 

* * *

 

 His first memory of waking up was of white. Too bright lights coupled with eyes he hadn’t used in what felt like days made for a terribly bright greeting. Everything he heard was muffled, as if he were wearing earmuffs. Victor slowly took in his environment, letting himself adjust to the bright lights and noises and figuring out exactly where he was.

 

He seemed to be in some sort of bed - probably in a hospital. His last memory was that of his repeating nightmare, so surely he had been involved in some sort of accident, and was now being taken care of. Victor vaguely wondered how much of practice he had skipped and whether Yakov would be mad at him, despite it being early off-season. 

 

“Victor, are you awake?” he faintly heard someone ask. He was pretty sure that was the same person grasping onto his hand at the moment, almost to the point where it hurt. It took a lot to turn his head around, because of the massive headache he was still sporting, but looking towards whoever was calling for him was completely worth it.

 

Right next to him, sitting on a plastic hospital chair, was probably one of the most gorgeous men Victor had ever seen with his own two eyes. His soft, brown hair was brushed onto his forehead in cute bangs, his eyebrows were scrunched up in worry, and he was biting his lip. 

 

Victor wanted nothing more than to kiss the conflicting emotions off his face. 

 

Woah, where had that come from? He didn’t even know this man, and he already wanted to kiss him? Well, he was truly beautiful, so at least there was that consolation. 

 

“Victor?” the man asked again, placing his hand over Victor’s, and that was when Victor noticed the glinting golden ring on his right hand. 

 

_ Golden ring?  _

 

The man seemed to have followed his gaze, “Do you want it off, is it uncomfortable? Or-”

 

The Victor before his accident was nowhere near married. He had been the infamous bachelor of the skating community for years, charming both men and women alike, but now, for whatever innate reason, he felt he could not part with his engagement - wedding? - ring. 

 

He pulled his hand away from the man quickly, as if burned. “No. Please don’t take it. It’s, it’s from him, I-”

 

“Ok, ok, calm down, please.  How are you feeling?” the stranger asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. 

 

“Uh, sorry, this is going to sound weird, who are you? I mean, you don’t seem to be hospital staff, and I don’t want to be rude but, where is Yakov? I- sorry…” Victor trailed off, catching the completely wrecked look on the other man’s face. 

 

It seemed that his words had absolutely destroyed the other person, his face had immediately fallen from the once smiling joy to a look of unbearable heartbreak. Was he fan? Was Victor supposed to have known him? He knew that he was forgetful but surely, he wouldn’t forget someone someone so important to him that they looked as heartbroken as that…

 

Victor’s eye caught onto a flickering movement, and he watched as the man’s left hand moved to cover up his right fingers. The motion seemed casual enough, but for some reason it held a sense of dark importance behind it. Was he hiding something?

 

The moment was, however, interrupted by his doctor, who had chosen exactly then to come in, saving them from any awkward silence. “Ah, Victor, you’re awake, how are you?”

 

His doctor proceeded to do a couple regular checkups, making sure all his motor skills and instincts were in working order, before moving onto questions.

 

“He doesn’t remember,” the mysterious man blurted out suddenly. 

 

Victor’s doctor fowned, turning his attention away from some medical forms. “Doesn’t remember what?” 

 

“Doesn’t remember…” the gorgeous man’s voice trailed off as he sighed. “Can we take this conversation outside?”

 

The pair leave, letting Victor to ponder what brought this beautiful, albeit brokenhearted man into his life. 

 

* * *

 

Victor soon learns that the mystery man’s name is Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki, to be exact. He stumbles over saying his full name the first time round, a small mistake that Victor simply puts down as his anxiety. 

 

“Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki-Nik-” he cuts himself off mid-sentence, a pained expression on his face. “Just… just Yuuri Katsuki.” 

 

Yuuri Katsuki is apparently not only a gorgeous man, but also a very caring one. He started fussing over Victor as soon as they get home. Yuuri explained what the doctor had told him about Victor’s condition - a form of amnesia caused by severe head trauma. He had only lost the last year or so in terms of time; it never failed to surprise Victor that he had missed an entire year. 

 

It felt so completely weird to try and think back to what he was doing a couple weeks ago and come up with complete blankness. A pit of sickness would open up in his stomach anytime he tried to think too hard about it. It was the strangest mixture of vertigo, dizziness and pain. 

 

Victor had grown accustomed to being taken care of by Yuuri. As soon as they had gotten home, Yuuri had scrambled to ‘arrange Victor’s bedroom’. That first day home, Victor had been completely out of it and had vaguely remembered only some moving boxes littered around the house. Once he felt strong enough again, he was able to rest in his bed, but something felt… off. Something was different and wrong. Yuuri would try to help him remember things, but it hurt too much to think. The look of pain that passed over Yuuri’s face everytime he couldn’t remember never escaped Victor. 

 

That’s what had led Victor to believing that he had known Yuuri. He had definitely known Yuuri before, Victor had probably met Yuuri during that one year he didn’t remember. What was Yuuri to him? A friend? A father figure? Dare he say it… a boyfriend? 

 

Yuuri was kind to Victor, too kind and too nice than he should’ve been. Even after Victor didn’t remember him, even after Victor’s memory loss clearly put Yuuri through a great deal of pain, Yuuri still put up with him. Still took his heartbeat everyday, and always gave him his meds and was always around when Victor needed him in those few first days after his accident. 

 

What was he hiding? Victor would wonder sometimes. Yuuri didn’t dare meet his eyes, would always look away with a hurtful expression, full or mourning. His fingers would ghost over his right hand, as if searching and yearning for something. For all the rumours that used to go around about him being aloof and unfocused, Victor was not a stupid man. He could pick up on Yuuri’s small mannerisms, could tell something was off.

 

After all, he was a world renowned athlete who had been a victim of a car accident and was now being taken care of by some random man he didn’t know, that somehow knew him, and that everyone else at the rink knew and… too complicated. Whatever they were to each other, Victor wished he would be strong enough to tell Yuuri to stop caring so much, or to leave him alone, if only so that Yuuri’s heart could take a break. 

 

He never would. 

 

Yuuri was too good a man to him, and Victor wasn’t guilty enough to stop him.

 

**_ii._ **

 

“Don’t you dare, katsudon,” Yuri Plisetsky’s voice rang out across the roof, breaking the soft, silent swishing of the wind.

 

Yuuri turned his head to stare back at Yurio for only a couple seconds before he looked back down at the cold hard concrete several floors below him, but those few seconds had been enough. Enough to see the tears and anguish and complete, utter fear on Yurio’s face. Of course he would be terrified. Heck, if Yuuri had found Yurio in this position he would’ve been scared out of his mind. 

 

Yuuri was standing on the edge of Yurio’s apartment building, the daunting height nearly pulling him into its sweet embrace. His fight-or-flight reflex had kicked in, but the adrenaline coursing through his system was simply a second thought to the near panic attack he was having. He hated Victor Nikiforov, vehemently hated the man who had gone and gotten amnesia to forget the past year…

 

And had forgotten him.

 

It would be so easy to jump, Yuuri thought. 

 

A fiercer, brighter image of Victor holding himself up on his elbows above him on the ice, fringe damp and hanging into Yuuri’s face, burned brightly in his mind’s eye. A dam seemed to have burst, fleeting images of Victor flying through his head. 

 

Whenever Yuuri was around Victor, it felt like everything hurt. His lungs would fill up with water so that he couldn’t breathe, his stomach would twist up in ugly ways and the worst pain was the one he felt deep within, right where his heart should’ve been. But when Yuuri was away from Victor, it seemed his whole mindset changed. He could happily remember those joyful days spent together, could nearly forget what had happened. He didn’t want to remember Victor’s amnesia.

 

It would be so easy to jump, Yuuri thought…

 

… But I don’t want to.

 

“I… I won’t,” Yuuri said, surprised by how sure and decisive his own voice sounded.

 

“Good,” Yurio said after a pause. “Now tell me you weren’t about to jump off my damn building because of Nikiforov.”

 

Yuuri let out a humourless laugh. “Can’t tell you that, Yura, or I’d be lying.” 

 

Yurio paused, as if considering something, then swore and marched angrily up to where Yuuri was standing. He grabbed Yuuri’s jacket, and for a moment he thought he would actually be pushed over the edge, but instead Yurio pulled him down to sit beside him.

 

“The view is pretty,” Yuuri remarked, after a couple long, awkward seconds.

 

“Don’t start going on about the view!’ Yurio yelled, before toning it down at the sight of Yuuri’s face. “I know… I know screaming won’t do anything. But it makes me feel better.”

 

“That’s okay, I…” Yuuri took in a deep breath. “I get that.”

 

“You just… I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you gave everything up over one stupid mistake. It’s not… fair,” Yurio sighed. 

 

“Nothing about this is really fair,” Yuuri pointed out. “It’s been on my mind. It’s hard without him, of course but… I have so many other people in my life. You, Yakov, my parents, Phichit… I don’t want to throw that away, even if I sometimes feel like I could, or should.”

 

“We should just tell him,” Yurio breathed, closing his eyes in annoyance at Yuuri’s immediate response.

 

“NO! God, no, don’t do that.”

 

“Why not, katsudon? Why would that change anything?” Yurio snorted. 

 

Yuuri was quiet for a while. “I… I messed up. I messed up bad, and I know, I got so scared, my anxiety and just took a hold of me when I didn’t tell him, right at the beginning. I even took my ring off right when I first found out, dammit. It simply grew from there. Every day that passes makes it harder and harder for me to tell him, and every day that passes I feel worse about what his reaction would be.”

 

“Mila would tell him in a heartbeat,” Yurio mused. “You know, she’s been dying to tell him. He remembers us, but not you.She’s heartbroken too, and not just over his amnesia, it kills all of us to see you two jumping around the truth.”

 

“I know. I know,” Yuuri sighed, kicking the paint off the old wall with his heel. “God, isn’t the ground so inviting, huh.”

 

Yurio took in a ragged breath, “Listen. You never,  _ never _ should feel like that. Victor is… he’s not worth it. However much he might mean to you, however much it might hurt you now… he’s  _ not _ worth that. He would never have wanted  _ that _ .”

 

Yuuri let out his breath. “I’ll get better.”  _ Hopefully _ .

 

Yurio stood up brushing off his pants. “You’ll have to tell him, someday. Someone’s going to get drunk and start telling him about the banquet or something or other, and things will go sour. Now get back in here katsudon, we’re playing Monopoly.”

 

Yuuri sent the abyss below him one last look, one last look at his old life, and stepped away from the roof, and towards Yurio; stepped away from his thoughts and towards comfort; stepped away from his last escape and towards months, maybe years of pain.

 

Stepped away from the Victor he loved, and towards the one that he didn’t. 

 

 

* * *

 

The teacups Yuuri was washing made soft clinking sounds as he scrubbed them. There was a soft, spring atmosphere in the apartment. Warm, honey coloured light was filtering onto the floorboards and the smell of fresh flowers flowed throughout every room. 

 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked from where he was reading on the couch. 

 

Yuuri hummed in response, setting the teacups to dry and grabbing a plate to wash next.

 

“Why do you still stick around?” Victor asked, receiving the sound of broken china in response.

 

“Crap, crap, crap, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri hurried, quickly brushing up the broken pieces of Victor’s tea set. He set them down gently on the counter behind him, then turned around and leaned back to stare at Victor, as if assessing him. He sighed, his resolve seeming to fall away as he cleared his throat.

 

"I used to have a coach that would support me during my last GPF. No matter what I just want to return the favor. Even if...it's to someone else,” Yuuri explained. 

 

Well, that was evasive to say the least. Victor had come to care for soft, calm man who took care of him, but… a coach? Victor hadn’t known that Yuuri competed in figure skating. How had this topic never arisen during their endless hours of pointless conversation? Victor shook his head, ready to remedy Yuuri’s problem.

 

"I could coach you. In this year's GPF. We still have time right?" he asked brightly, but underneath he felt a slight bubble of anxiety build up in his chest. What was he doing? Well, coaching  _ was _ truly the best option besides sitting in bed doing nothing all day.

 

"W-what?"

 

Victor frowned, "I was the 5-year gold winner, didn't you know?”

 

“No!, No, of course I knew that, just.... I didn’t think you’d want to…  coach me…” Yuuri murmured, eyes going slightly glassy.

 

“Of course I’d want to coach you! Yuuri you’ve done nothing but look after me these months, I have to repay the favour somehow.”  

 

Yuuri sighed and let his shoulders fall, along with whatever tension he’d been holding onto. He smiled softly, such a short burst of actual, real, happiness that Victor felt he might keel over and die. Was a man allowed to look so beautiful? 

 

“I would… love nothing more than to have you as my coach for this upcoming season, Victor,” Yuuri said. “I really hope you can help me.” 

 

* * *

 

There were a lot of things to prepare, of course, because Yuuri was announcing his return in the season so late. They immediately called Yakov, who started shouting at Victor for finally getting his stuff together, and treating Yuuri the way he was supposed to treat Yuuri. The other man quickly interjected at that point, and explained things to Yakov in a toned down manner. Victor watched on, bewildered, as Yuuri calmed down his coach of ten years better than anyone ever had in his entire time spent with Yakov. 

 

Next, they had to contact ISU for registrations and qualifications. It was uncertain that Yuuri would be qualified for the higher competitions since he had dropped out of his last season to look over Victor, but luckily enough he didn’t need to compete in too many qualifying competitions. 

 

Afterwards, the problem of programs, music and themes came up. They were already late into the game, compared to other skaters who already had choreographed sequences for the next season. 

 

“Hope and reminiscing,” Yuuri said one clouded summer morning. “That’s what I want my theme to be for this new season.”

 

Victor nodded, carefully jotting that down next to where Yuuri’s quads were listed. He was surprised to see so many, the man clearly having competed at a high international level, and yet Victor had no recollection of him as a competitor whatsoever. 

 

“Hope and reminiscing, right… what sort of music do you think would fit?” Victor asked, continuing their conversation and hoping he would have remembered something as his mind ran off somewhere else. 

 

There was something, a thing about Yuuri, that he couldn’t get rid of. It had bugged him for so long, and now, more than ever, Victor felt close to the answer. He didn’t want Yuuri to leave, didn’t want to stop waking up to make two breakfasts, didn’t want to stop spending his afternoons lounged with his head in Yuuri’s lap and a book in his hand,  _ didn’t want it to stop. _

 

He wanted Yuuri, Victor realised as he nodded, staring absently at Yuuri’s lips.  _ What is wrong with me? _ he thought, trying to put all thoughts of his student out of his mind, but failing to do so due to him sitting right next to Victor. 

 

“... and yeah, I guess those two would be my best options, I think,” Yuuri smiled, clearly finishing his commentary on this new season’s music. “What do you think?”

 

“I, ah,” Victor stumbled over his words, glancing down to find words written in his notepad that he had no recollection of writing.  _ Thank you semi-conscious me, _ he thought desperately. “Yeah, you’ve clearly done your research!”

 

“We should work on choreography tomorrow,” Yuuri laughed, “Can’t wait to see what you’ll have for me!”

 

Victor needed to get his work done, he needed to listen to those songs and start plotting down some moves. This was all for Yuuri after all, for that one person that made butterflies float up in his stomach. He couldn’t just sit around, lamenting how gorgeous the curve of his spine was...

 

Needless to say, that Victor dreamt only about raven-haired boys with pretty pink lips and even prettier ice skating that night.

 

* * *

 

Victor stepped onto the rink for the first time in months, the clear, cool air washing over him and it felt almost like he was waking up from a deep sleep. It had been much too long since he had skated, too many days filled with a worried Yuuri who refused to let him near an ice rink. Those days were over, Victor needed to skate to show Yuuri his new programs. 

 

Luckily, his first few laps weren’t so completely disastrous, and instead, he was able to enjoy the sharp sounds of his skates on the ice and feel the harsh cold from below him. His ice rink had nearly been his second home, it had been his past present and would apparently still be his future. This was exactly what he had needed.

 

“Right!” Victor clapped his hands, reaching the rink’s side after warming up. The moves were familiar and yet hurt more than he remembered them hurting, letting a strange sense of nostalgia wash over him. 

 

“Choreography?” Yuuri asked, smiling softly. There was a different kind of pain hidden in the tight set of Yuuri’s shoulders and his furrowed brow. This one seemed much more deep-seated, than what he had seen before. Was he  _ that _ bad at skating already?

 

Victor rapped his knuckles on the plastic barrier, before speeding away to his starting position. “Yeah, play the short program piece, please?”

 

* * *

 

The next few months pass by quickly, as Yuuri tries his best to learn both choreographies in record time, so that he can practice them as much as possible afterwards. Victor is certain the man is a machine, he’s always the first on the rink and the last one to leave. Nothing Victor has ever seen in his entire life matches the burning dedication this man seems to feel towards this sport, towards something, that makes him so obsessive. 

 

Victor once mentioned a rest day and Yuuri took a good look at him before giggling like a madman and going back to packing his gym bag. There was no way to stop him. 

 

But what was it? What was backing up that desire to spend all that time on the ice? Victor, as a coach, knew he should be stopping him, should be keeping him off the ice lest he injure himself, but there was something so hypnotic and entrancing about Yuuri skating. He seemed to be making music with his body, creating new melodies with the flick of his ankle and conjuring up fresh motifs with the twist of his torso. A beautifully burning monster, ever changing, ever evolving, and so who was Victor to stand in his way? 

 

If only he could concentrate harder, if only he could force his brain to remember what connected the two of them. Unfortunately, fate had a funny way of expressing its love, condemning Victor to a life of confusion and Yuuri to a life of angst. 

 

**_iii._ **

 

Victor’s gotten too used to this.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t love it because, of course he does, but it almost seems too good to be true right now, with Yuuri. Somewhere in between late night choreography sessions and tired face plants onto Victor’s desk, Yuuri has semi-moved into his bedroom. The first few nights through, Victor almost doesn’t notice, too tired when waking up to remember who he fell asleep next to. However, one warm morning, he manages to wake up before their alarm rings to find a soft body curled up in his arms. 

 

(It was the best surprise he could have ever asked for). 

 

(Yuuri then proceeded to wake up, stare into Victor’s eyes for what felt like an eternity and quietly shuffle eye, eyes clearly welling up).

 

Their life together was more and more perfect. 

 

And yet there was something missing. 

 

Undecipherable moments where Victor felt like the ground beneath his feet was falling, leaving him with the same strange sense of vertigo, dizziness and pain. And it would always happen in their most domestic moments; Yuuri would be calmly bring him some tea, or complaining about something or other, or just sitting there, reading, when it would hit Victor. Yuuri was so soft and so full of warmth that Victor’s heart felt like it was breaking out of happiness, as he tried to remember something,  _ anything _ . Why was it that he pulled up a blank slate of  _ nothing _ whenever he looked at Yuuri, yet there was clearly some sort of connection between the two of them? 

 

Even Yuuri’s skating seemed familiar, Victor could always tell the the exact angle at which he would place his hand or the correct number of rotations he’d have on his spin, and it felt so out of place, seeing his beautiful form, yet not being able to remember exactly where he remembered it from. 

 

So pain and dizziness and vertigo it would be; Victor would do anything, go through anything to spend time with this man.

 

* * *

 

Phichit comes to visit, halfway through the summer, to cheer Yuuri on, and to visit the Russian skating rink. A sort of “exchange student” as Yakov calls him, and Victor can attest to the fact that he is absolutely not jealous at all. No. Not him. Why would he be jealous at all? It’s not as if Yuuri literally means the sun and the stars and the moon to him but they haven’t managed to put a label to their relationship because he always somehow manages to make Yuuri cry, yet this unknown man manages to waltz into their life and open Yuuri up so easily.

 

So, no. Victor’s not jealous of Yuuri’s best friend who can make him laugh without that heartbroken twinkle to his eye. 

 

“And then,” Phichit snorted, trying to keep his composure. “Then! Oh wow, Yuuri was a wild beast, guess what he does, he goes up to the naked guy on the castle, underwear on his head and scribbled writing on his back and all - a truly wonderful fashion statement if I ever saw one - and strips alongside him and climbs up too and makes out- I mean up! Makes up with him!” 

 

Phichit and the rest of the Russian skating members dissolve into laughter at this point, after barely managing to hold it in for Victor to hear the whole story. Yuuri sits beside him, face stone-cold although his lips twitch a bit at the sight of Yurio rolling on the floor. Victor agrees that it’s a good story - after all, anything that makes Yurio laugh, much less fall down from it is a good story - but he refuses to laugh. 

 

Jealousy isn’t an emotion Victor deals with easily. He’s clingy and overly affectionate and he knows it. So the thought of some guy and Yuuri of all people doing that bothers him. A bit. Just a smidge. 

 

They’re all gathered at a going-away party to celebrate Phichit’s time here, and there’s a relaxed, friendly atmosphere that Victor knows he can’t ruin. Someone broke out Georgi’s expensive whiskey, reserved only for the worst of break-ups and everyone’s just at that perfect level of tipsy, and going off about his one-sided love for Yuuri would be a big no. 

 

“I’ll never forget that as long as I live, Yuuri and Vic- I mean-” Mila choked and started coughing like crazy. “I mean- I mean Chihoko-”

 

Victor frowned, much more interested in Mila than Phichit now. Had she not been just about to say Victor’s name? Where did Chihoko play into that? He didn’t even remember Chihoko.

 

And ah, yes, there it was again, the same grey sludge that seemed to cover his memories took over as he wracked his brains, thinking about Chihoko. Did this mean that he had interacted with Chihoko? Yuuri was his friend,  _ of course _ Victor should’ve known his ex, how stupid of him. How absolutely, utterly, totally stupid of him. Victor hated not knowing,  _ hated _ not being able to remember even the smallest details of his friends.

 

Yuuri had meant the whole entire world to him, these past few months. It was hard realising that your entire universe depended solely on one person, and Viktor blameed his late realisation on this. 

 

He’s surprisingly calm, surrounded by his friends as soft pop music plays in the background when thinks the three very special words coherently:  _ I love Yuuri. _

 

No one has ever meant this much to him, and despiteit  being quite terrifying, it’s also  _ so _ liberating to say it, to feel it.  _ Don’t take this away from me, _ he prays desperately, thinking back to his clouded memories.  _ Don’t take away my life from me again. _

 

**_+i._ **

 

_ This is it, _ Yuuri thought, staring at the fresh skate cuts on the cold ice.  _ The last GPF. The last run through of this choreography. The last time I compete professionally, probably ever.  _

 

_ The last time I'll have Victor as my coach _ . 

 

“Yuuri, look at me,” Victor smiled, grabbing Yuuri’a hand in a friendly gesture. “You'll do absolutely amazing, trust me! You've got nothing to worry about, as your coach, I promise.” 

 

_ As my coach? What about as my fiancé?  _

 

All season, Yuuri had had yet to win a gold medal. He had managed a silver at Trophée de France, edged out of first place by Christophe, and bronze in the Rostelecom Cup where Yurio and JJ had taken first place and second. But no sign of gold, not yet. It was the GPF, so I wasn't as if this would be his only chance at gold for this season, but being around Victor again, intimately relearning all his old habits as Yuuri’s coach had been too much for Yuuri’s heart. It hurt, watching him stand there and not be able to hold his hand, or kiss him or even just offer him the slightest touch of support. 

 

Yuuri absolutely detested it, this never ending want, and he had decided that he’d retire after the GPF, just like he had decided last year. He still had a few minutes to spare before it was his turn on the ice, and Yuuri contemplated the smooth planes of the now freshly cleaned ice before speaking up. 

 

Just like the ice, he was starting on a new skate in his life. A bittersweet, but better one. 

 

“Victor… before I go out there,” Yuuri breathed, trying to calm both his nerves. “I… I will always appreciate how much you've done for me, and I want to thank you for coaching me. But, I don't think I can do this anymore.”

 

Victor stood silent, smile frozen on his face as he tried to process Yuuri’s words.

 

“What?” he breathed.

 

“You’ve… you’ve been an amazing coach, but I just,” Yuuri shut his eyes, breathing hard. “Let’s end this.”

 

The universe seemed to stand still in place for a few seconds. It all slipped away, audience members, judges and fellow competitors faded away, grounding the both of them to this huge turning point. Emotions were running high, both because of the competition and because of Yuuri’s statement. He could see every tear as it formed crystal clear in Victor’s eyes and cascaded down his perfectly contoured cheeks, and in that moment Yuuri had never seen a man so heartbreakingly beautiful. 

 

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said it right before my skate. But I had to get it off my chest,” Yuuri smiled sadly as his emotions reached a peak point, overflowing and making him feel like he could be floating. “One last thing… You took a break after becoming the five-time world champion to coach me, so how is it possible that I still haven’t won a single gold medal?”

 

Something flickered in Victor’s eyes. 

 

It could have been anything, it could have been pre-competition jitters, simply another wave of tears or even just a trick of the light; Yuuri knew better. Victor knew. Victor  _ knew _ .

 

He had to know. 

 

Yuuri reached beneath the fabric of his costume to feel the familiar strap of leather and cold weight of his ring. He hadn’t worn it since that dreadful day in the hospital, but instead had hung it around his neck as a sort of promise.  _ I’ll find you again, _ Yuuri would whisper into the dead of night.  _ I’ll find you, and we’ll be happy, _ he would promise with tears streaking down his face. 

 

He pulled it free now, letting the engraved metal rest in his palm, before handing it over to Victor. Almost instinctively, Victor reached out, palm wide open to accept Yuuri’s gift. Yuuri didn’t even need to look into Victor’s eyes to feel to the amount of pure adoration, devotion and utter heartbreak he knew Victor must be feeling right now. It would have been too much, too soon. Yuuri took a deep breath and pushed off the barrier to greet the audience as the announcer called his name.

 

* * *

 

Victor had been left  _ truly _  speechless only a handful of times in his life. 

 

There had been the first time he’d ever skated, a joyful six year-old boy with a crooked smile and rental skates who never failed to see beauty in the world. 

 

The second time time had also been related to the ice, when his parents had agreed to let him fully pursue skating under Yakov at the age of 14, and moving his home rink to St. Petersburg. 

 

The third time around when he had had to take a step back and assess his feelings, was after a particularly nasty competition, where a fellow competitor had fallen and badly damaged their neck. It was, of course, a sombre moment, interrupted only by the sneers of another prideful coach, who had let slip some horrible comments about the skater who was then on the operation table. Victor wasn’t sure he had ever recovered from the absolute destruction Chris and other skaters had rained down upon him. 

 

The fourth time, was when he’d finally plucked up the damn courage, and hauled himself over to a psychologist. Him, the five time winner of the GPF, Russia’s golden skater adored by fans all over the world, had dropped his jaw on the floor when he heard that there were  _ reasons _ for him feeling this way, he could  _ label _ his nonsensical sadness now. 

 

The fifth time, though? The fifth time, was at a normal GPF Free Skate, except it wasn’t so normal, as he was  _ coaching _ rather than skating there, he was also terribly, terribly in love with his student. 

 

_ So _ terribly in love with his student. 

 

Of course, freak traffic accidents get in the way of things, and mess up perfectly good things, such as his perfect marriage and perfect husband.

 

_ Well, damn. _

 

Yuuri had chosen ‘hope and reminiscing’ as his theme this year, and finally Victor could tell why. His free skate was a gorgeously melancholic piece, heartbreaking sweeps of his arms and sharp turns made for an entertaining performance that entranced his audience and Yuuri was very clearly living his emotions vicariously alongside them. 

 

Flashes of his past life bombarded Victor, intensified only by the raw feelings in the dance that Yuuri was performing. The metal ring in his palm was surprisingly warm, the only object grounding him and keeping him standing in this moment of utter frustration. 

 

_ Flash _ .

 

Warm, golden hues cascaded through the curtains. A warm body was currently cutting off the circulation to Victor’s right hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was much too sleepy and content to care right then. Yuuri turned around, sporting an insane bed head and drool hanging from his mouth. Victor had never seen a sight more perfect. 

 

_ Flash _ .

 

A soft, spring breeze filled the apartment alongside the 90’s pop that was playing on Victor’s ancient radio. Yuuri was dancing around the kitchen, waving his spatula every where as helped Victor prepare dessert for when Mila, Yurio and Gergi would come over for lunch. Victor had never been happier.

 

_ Flash _ . 

 

Sharp blue highlights flashed onto Yuuri’s face, contouring his soft cheek bones. The TV was playing some Russian drama that Victor couldn’t care less about, but Yuuri had made Victor promise to help him learn Russian, and now here he was. A small smile adorned Viktor’s lips, watching Yuuri’s calm face as he settled more comfortably in Victor’s embrace. The dark room seemed to ground everything around them, sharpening their connection and in that moment Victor had never felt his heart overflow with as much happiness as he was feeling then.

 

_ Flash _ .

 

So many stolen moments, ripped away from him, all because of some unsafe driver, and what had that cost them? Both of their hearts, nearly.

 

Tears flowed freely down Victor’s cheeks as he tightened his fist around Yuuri’s ring, but even through the blurry vision he was sporting, he could clearly see- no. he could clearly feel,  _ feel _ Yuuri’s emotions, his heartbreak, his denial and anger, and finally his acceptance. Accepting that Victor wouldn’t remember, accepting that and living with that and finally giving back what was left behind: a ring. 

 

Yuuri pulled his arms up into his final pose, face turned towards the heavens, arms flung out in each side. He was a picture of serene calmness, seemingly so in tune with the world around him. He was so,  _ so _ gorgeous and Victor wanted nothing more than to scoop him and beg his forgiveness.

 

He scrabbled to push Yuuri’s ring into his right pocket before hurrying to the edge of the rink. 

 

“Victor! I did great, right?” Yuuri asked, eyes shining bright and knowingly, taking in the sight of his red eyes and tear-streaked face. In a fit of nostalgia, Victor ran the last steps towards the ice, timing his collision with Yuuri perfectly. 

 

Victor hit Yuuri with much larger force, pushing him down onto the ice while cradling his head to soften the impact. A single second of hesitation broke Victor’s calm facade, making him doubt himself: what if his brain  _ was _ crazy enough to come up with this insane dream about Yuuri because of his out-of-hand crush? 

 

All it took was one look into Yuuri’s eyes to chase all of his doubts away. Golden, honey-brown eyes met his, and as soon as his suspicions were confirmed, Victor didn’t waste a moment before pressing his lips to Yuuri’s, mid-air. He felt his whole body relax, finally feeling as if the last puzzle in his life was slotting back into place. The dark grey fog that had plagued his mind for so long was clearing, for once, and it felt so much like coming home, Victor felt like crying all over again.

 

The sounds in the stadium felt like they were coming from a different universe, that’s how far away from the world Victor felt right then. He never wanted it to end, never wanted to exit Yuuri’s warm embrace, balanced out by the cool chill the ice gave off. That was it wasn’t it? Love, a complete equilibrium, both mentally and physically between two people. 

 

“I really didn’t appreciate this enough that first time you did this,” Yuuri said breathlessly, overwhelmed by both the physical exertion from his free skate and Victor’s sudden realisation. 

 

“You can appreciate it now,” Victor smiled, pecking Yuuri’s lips again for good measure. “I remember, oh my god, I remember, Yuuri.” 

 

Yuuri smiled one of his secret smiles, the ones reserved only for Victor and Victor alone, tears welling up in his eyes. “Gl-glad you finally caught on.”

 

Victor paused, nearly drinking in the sight if Yuuri as if he was a dying man in a desert. He hadn’t been allowed to so reverently stare at those eyebrows in over a year and it was time he did. 

 

“Get off me, you big goof,” Yuuri smiled. He pushed Victor over, so that he was laying on top of Victor, and he was sure he had never seen a sight as beautiful as Yuuri laying on his elbows on top of him. Yuuri grinned at him before pushing himself up and turning to give Victor a helping hand. 

 

Victor lay on the ice, awe-struck at exactly how many things had happened in such quick succession these past 10 minutes, before ignoring Yuuri’s hand to kneel before him.

 

And then to raise one leg, placing it in front of Yuuri in a pose so infamous that Victor was sure he would have permanent ear-drum damage from the spectators in the stands. 

 

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Victor, what are you-”

 

Yuuri quickly cut himself off, his throat closing up with emotion at the sight of Victor kneeling before him, ring in hand. His hands reached up to cover his mouth. 

 

“Yuuri… I forget many things. And this time I forgot you. For a… prolonged time. Let me… let me make it up to you? Be mine again?” Victor questioned, his voice thick with emotion. 

 

Yuuri breathed in loudly, choking down his sobs as he finally let himself cry. “Sounds like a marriage proposal.” 

 

**_fin._ **

 

_ (It was.)  _

**Author's Note:**

> much love to all other creators and especially our mod, mac! wouldn't have been able to do this without them xx


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